


Lovin' Me

by vivamusmoriendumest



Series: Picture Perfect [2]
Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: Angst, F/M, More angst, Prequel, Sad, prequel sorta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivamusmoriendumest/pseuds/vivamusmoriendumest
Relationships: Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You
Series: Picture Perfect [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079390
Kudos: 3





	Lovin' Me

1973

The day of the press release had been chilly; in fact, the whole week leading up to it had been too.

Chilly enough you had to break out your old windbreaker from the box at the bottom of your closet. 

You liked the break from the heat that winter brought and the feeling of the cold settling on your skin. 

The minute you walked through the CSPD’s doors you felt something was different.

Many times before, you’d been sent to take notes and write about press releases for the newspaper you worked at— the Colorado Springs Gazette —but something in the air told you today would be different. 

He’d noticed you the minute you walked into the common room where the public was informed about the progress of certain cases. 

You had your bag slung across your shoulder and your recorder ready. 

You walked in and demanded authority, that’s just the way you were. Something about the way you carried yourself, the way you dressed, was oozing confidence and leadership. 

Even from the first question, Flip could tell you were an amazing journalist. You took it seriously, you were careful with your words, and you always were engaged. 

You always made whoever you were talking to glow. He didn’t know how you did it. 

Flip stood off to the side while the Department head for CSPD explained that the shootout a few days ago was nothing exactly to be worried about. 

Just a suspect they’d been tracking and informed of from another state, he’d explained. 

You didn’t believe it, not for one second. 

“Sir, what about the car left at the scene, or the loud explosion sound some heard?” you questioned.

He looked almost surprised you’d known about that. 

“Nothing to be worried about—what’s your name, honey?” He asked.

You almost rolled your eyes. “Y/n, sir.” 

He smiled. Almost sickeningly. “Well Y/n, it’s nothing at all to be afraid of.” 

Afraid? Hah. Not likely. 

“The suspect when chased by law enforcement, departed in a vehicle and quickly crashed afterward, causing a small explosion where no one was hurt.” he continued.

Another reporter chimed in to ask another question but you were still curious. 

“And what was the suspect suspected of? What car were they driving? How exactly could our lovely police force let this happen?” You acted innocent like you weren’t picking at his explanation. At his fake ass story. 

“Thank you, that’ll be enough questions,” he announced.

You smiled, “Sir, please answer these questions. The public needs to know.” 

He walked away and most of the reporters scattered, leaving back to their cars to salvage what they could of the short public briefing. 

You stayed for a bit, leaning against a wall. Already sketching out your ideas for each paragraph for your article.

A tall figure leaned against the wall next to you, clearing his throat to get your attention. 

His hair was the first thing you noticed, other than his moles and forearms. 

His face was nice, almost like it was sculpted by an artist. Though there were no cracks, no mess-ups. Virtually perfect. 

“Hi-uh, Flip Zimmerman.” he held out his hand. 

His voice sounded as if it could part the clouds on command or make plants grow just by speaking a single word. 

You tucked your notebook under your arm and you shook back, with a strong but not too strong grip just like your Mum taught you. 

You gave him a small smile. “Y/n L/n.” 

He crossed his arms in front of him, trying to make the stance he was in making him look less nervous. 

“I work for the Colorado Springs Gazette, down on Pikes Peak Avenue.” You explained, taking a sip of your to-go tea.

“Interesting, and I’m guessing you don’t come to press releases for shits and giggles then?” He responded.

You let out a chuckle. 

“I’m working an article on the alleged car accident explosion last week.” You confessed.

Flip’s nervous. But of course, he can’t tell you that. 

An obviously intelligent, beautiful woman is looking into the one thing he’s not allowed to talk about right now. 

“‘Alleged’?” Flip’s eyebrow rose, even though he already knew.

“Well yeah, small ‘nothing to worry about’ car crashes resulting in explosions don't usually result in no incident reports at all or any hospital records.”

Flip bit his lip. You were right. The car explosion with the runaway suspect was one of the first things they’d come up with. And here you were, poking holes in the story. 

“I guess you’re right. What’s your theory then?” He chuckled.

“Like I’d tell you, Detective Zimmerman.” You grinned brightly.

This conversation was going to end soon. But Flip didn’t want to stop talking to you. You made him feel comfortable, you made him feel at home. 

Already feeling comfortable and it’s been, what? Four minutes? Less? Pathetic. She’s a reporter, she knows how to calm people and soothe the answer out of them, Flip’s cop brain said.

But I wanna see her again. 

Don’t. She’s bad news. 

She’s harmless.

She’s got you wrapped around her finger under five minutes. She’s dangerous.

I’m completely fine being wrapped around her fingers. Fuck she has nice hands-

“Zimmerman? Zimmerman, you okay there soldier?” You joked.

“Yeah totally.” He brushed off the warnings his field instincts were giving him. 

“Ok so here’s my proposal.” He cleared his throat. 

“How about you and I go to dinner and you can tell me more about you and your article?” Flip’s flannel collar felt tight, suddenly feeling overwhelming nervousness overtake him. 

You played with your pen in one of your hands. “How do I know you’re not gonna report all my theories and findings back to your Captain? Or try to shut up me?” 

“I’d never, I promise. I promise on my grandmother’s grave. I’m also not really into the whole killing or kidnapping thing. Just not my gig.” He said, his hands raised in innocence.

“Okay, okay. As long as I don’t end up in a ditch somewhere tomorrow morning.” You have him a small fake smile, knowing he could  
probably get away with anything. 

In the end, your politeness and tender attitude was both a tool in your journalism and served as a survival tactic in some situations. 

It didn’t matter what expression you somehow managed to replicate on your face, but just cops being around you shook you and made you deeply nervous. You’d seen —and felt —first hand the shit they put black folks through and you’d always tried to keep your distance from the police. 

The avoidance tactic didn’t work well though when your editor usually sent you as the reporter and journalist for the crime section; Too much talking with officers who didn’t see you as more as a spec of dirt on the ground. 

“How does tonight sound?” he asked. 

Were you really going to trust him? A stranger and a cop, for fucks’ sake? 

“Yeah of course.” You pushed your thoughts to the side.

He let a big smile spread on his angelic face, before coughing and covering up his giddiness.

It was kind of cute. His little dimples and his moles. And his smile, oh me oh my his smile. 

He’s a cop. He works against almost everything you are. 

It’s just a job. It’s not his identity. He’s not a bad guy. 

“Could I uh-Could I get your number?” He said, trying to cover up the pure happiness he was feeling. 

“Yeah, totally. Gosh, I guess I wasn’t thinking.” You scribbled down your landline and slid it into his waiting palm.

Your skin momentarily touched and it wasn’t like anything you’d either felt. 

Sure you’d been with guys that’d had calloused, rough hands, but not this kind. Not this dually soft and rough. It was hard to explain. 

You liked his hands though. They looked good for holding. You wouldn’t mind holding his hand or having them on you for the rest of your life. 

You realized your eyes probably were still trained on his hands and you pulled your gaze away from them. 

You met Flip’s eyes. He had a flustered look displayed on his face. Like he’d been caught. 

“Call me. How does 7:30 sound?” You tried finding your voice again but it almost seemed completely hidden in your throat. 

A small half-smirk fell on his lips. God his lips were pretty. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I’ll see you then.” He mumbled. 

“Okay. Bye Flip.” You waved as you walked away, thinking about what you were gonna wear.

•••••

“It was like a dream. Like a literal goddamn dream, F/n!” You gushed as you flopped down on your bed. 

“I was a bit skeptical before—he works down in the Narcotics unit at the CSPD.” 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” F/n said, sitting down in your bed next to you, criss-cross applesauce. 

“He took me to a movie and a bar—seems normal enough, right? No, who takes someone to a movie then to a bar straight after?” You went on, taking off your long sleeve shirt. 

“Is that a complaint?” She asked, raising their brow. 

“No, no, of course not.” You said, taking off your bellbottom jeans. 

“I just-do you think that’s a bit strange?” You asked.

You threw your clothes into a nearby laundry basket and walked over to your closet, picking out a shirt to wear to sleep. 

“Y/n, I think you’re being paranoid. That sounds perfectly fine to me.” 

“Yeah, I guess you could be right.” You pulled the t-shirt over your head. 

“Do you that think maybe, just maybe you’re being paranoid because he’s a cop? I’d completely understand if you were. It makes complete sense.” 

“Yes, part of it is because he’s a cop. But he’s also a really nice guy. He’s sweet and charming and funny and has the sweetest smile and laugh I’ve ever heard and-“

She raised her palm flat telling you to stop. “Okay, yeah, I get it. You and your boy crushes.” 

“Boy? No. He’s very much a man. He makes me feel like I’m gonna fucking melt.” You said. 

“Okay, okay, I understand. Christ.” She said walking away and towards the hallway.

“Goodnight!” You called. 

“Goodnight.” She called back. 

If things you this way for a while I can’t see anything going wrong, you thought, Nothing at all. 

•••••

“Yes Allison, I’ll get you the story all typed up so you can get it printed in on time. Mhmm. I promise.” 

You sighed and hung up your phone, accidentally slamming it on your desk. 

You sighed, covering your face with your hands.

You were nowhere near done that article and it was due in three days. Of course, you knew you could finish it by then, it was more of that you weren’t good with managing time. You were always so busy. Keeping up with your daily routine was started to get harder and harder.

Getting up early and going to bed late was starting to affect your writing skills and overall ability to focus. 

Every time you sat down to write out a few hundred words, the eventual pull of excitement of another object or sound or smell distracted you.

“Ugh.” you huffed, face down flat on your desk. 

Your phone started ringing, somewhat echoing through your small office. 

You sighed and picked up the receiver and held it to your ear. 

“Y/n L/n with the Colorado Springs Gazette, how can I help you today?” You said, holding the fake smile—but a smile none the less—like you’d been repeatedly told to do so at your job training. 

Smile. Be on their good side. Get answers no matter what. 

You heard a small chuckle on the line. 

“Hon, you don’t have to do that for me.” Flip said. 

You sigh. “I know Flip, it’s just reflexes from the job.” 

“Mhm. You’ve had a long day, I presume.”

You mumbled a soft ‘yeah’ to him. 

“So, I have a surprise for you.” 

You gasped, a hand placed theatrically over your heart though no one would see past your closed blinds. 

“For little ol’ me?” You responded.

“Who else?” He responded. “Look out front.” 

You agreed and quickly hung up, not bothering grabbing your light jacket, anticipating that the heat hadn’t let up since you’d been out last. 

You rushed past your floor’s secretary telling her to hold your calls until you were back. 

You practically ran out of the elevator when you made it to the Lobby. 

You threw yourself into his arms, earning an ‘oof’ from him in surprise. 

You pulled back, his hands still on your waist. 

“W-What are you doing here, Flip?” You asked him with a big warm smile.

“I’m here to bring you out to lunch. You’ve been so tired and in your own head lately that I thought I should check up on you.” He said leaning into your hand that swept through his hair. 

“Oh Flip, that’s so sweet of you to do.” You cooed, still pushing his hair back as the wind took hold of it.

“Let me just go grab my purse. I’ll be right back.”

•••••

The last year with Flip had been absolute bliss. Nothing could sum it up as perfectly as such. 

He was a gentleman, he was funny and didn’t pressure you in stuff unless he knew you just were backing out of it because of fear. 

A bit earlier this year, he’d moved in with you.   
It was at the perfect time too, because suddenly and out of nowhere F/n had received a two-year-long speaking tour across North America on college campuses. 

Something about her voice had ignited something you’d rarely see in a lifetime in them. 

So off she went, leaving you and Flip in your first house together. 

It was amazing, being so loved by him. The entire experience was everything you had ever hoped for in a relationship. 

He was almost always patient and soft. He always took his time with you. He knew the world had been tough towards you, so whenever you were with him he tried to be as supportive and tender and lovely as possible.

One day, you had come home in tears. It was late but of course Flip was waiting for you, sitting at the dining room table. 

“Y/n?” Flip spoke out into the dark.

The only light on downstairs was the kitchen ceiling fan that gave off a warm glow. 

Your back was turned towards him, your hands placed down on the kitchen counter. 

Flip stood up and hurried over to you. 

“Please Flip-I just need a minute.” You sniffled out, wiping your tears away quickly. 

Flip stood behind you, his chin on your shoulder. 

“Could I give you a hug, sweetheart?” He whispered softly. 

You nodded your head. Flip wrapped his arms around you and you melted right into them. 

“What happened, N/n?” 

“I-this guy he-“ You stuttered, having trouble getting the words out. 

“Shh, take your time.” 

You told a deep breath in. 

“I was walking to my car and this guy started catcalling me. Telling me the things he’d do to me if I’d let him. He said of course I’d let him, because there’s nothing sluts like more than ‘a good dicking down’.” Your voice cracked and you awaited his response in the silence that stood so prominently in the room. 

“Baby, I am so sorry he said those things to you. He has no fucking right, and if I wasn’t here with you I’d be there kicking his ass all the way to another state.” Flip mumbled.

“I’m sorry too.” 

“For what, baby?” 

You turned around, still in his arms, and snuggled yourself into his chest. 

“Just-I don’t know.” Your voice came out muffled by his shirt. 

“This isn’t your fault. In no fucking universe could it ever be your fault.” He said softly.

“Thank you.” You spoke out.

“For what?”

“For loving me.”


End file.
